Flutes and Bunnies, Part I

by Staff Writer

I am restless (Breaking the Golden Rule or Restless Cravings). I also find it very hard to disconnect myself from someone who has ever touched my heart in even the smallest way. Perhaps that is a comfort to a new paramour. Perhaps it is a shock for readers who believe me flinty and untouchable–an “ice princess.”

What is it about the year ending that makes us want to patch up connections, resolve, redefine and otherwise make amends to relationships that have been torn in some way? How is it even possible that circumstances etched in betrayal might make a reappearance in this new year?

I spoke of my courtly love with Paul before in Breaking the Golden Rule. What I didn’t reveal in that tale (and should have) is that before I pushed Paul off of me, before I pushed him out of the warmth of me, I came. I cried when I did, tears the only way that the exalt I felt in my orgasm could escape me. The tears were also bitter pain I knew I caused J the moment I lay in that bed, though he knew not my betrayal at the time. If I said I enjoyed Paul in the original story, would that have made me more his harlot? Would it have made me less J’s wife?

When the interested reader asked me if I came with Paul, I relived it in its beautiful pain. I had not told J. Should I? I had betrayed already. Was this not salt on an already deep wound? If I divulged it, would it show callousness or a wish to repair trust and love with J?

J is stronger than I imagined, perhaps stronger than I deserve. “I assumed that you came with Paul,” he said in discussion with me. He assumed that was why I stopped it, shocked by my betrayal only in the throws of great pleasure.

In truth, I was left in love with both of them months ago, a more difficult place that I had ever imagined. We all met under the “label” of swingers, and now we might transform into something else? The idea was absurd.

I did not say goodbye to Paul. I did not string him along as I claimed. I kept feeding the love I had for him. And, he gave more of his love for me. Our evening in the hôtel anonyme was the last one we had in each other’s presence this year, almost six months ago.

Paul was never far from any discussion that J and I had about playing with others. J went from complete upset and anger to misunderstanding and a desire to overcome those emotions. I lay patient and willing to endure all that J must uncover in order to move forward with me, whether or not we EVER played with anyone again.

Slowly, when appropriate, I revealed how deep within my heart that Paul had become. I shared the way he touched the artist and the romantic in me. J retreated. He was undone by my revealing, felt excluded and betrayed. In truth, he was. I had not loved WITH him. I loved even though I was with him. That is exclusive and inherently flawed and would be the death of any swinger OR poly, I imagine.

J’s belief that he and I also shared something powerful is what kept him hear me. It was his choice. He kept me near by his own grace. I felt quite undeserving at the time. And, in the tumult, we rebuilt.

So comes our challenge for the new year: Paul, in our bed, within the month.

We cannot love as we wish if we do not share all with each other. That is what J said. It is no more natural for him to ask me not to love Paul than it is to say we shall never bring anything “socially deviant” into our bed again. Despite the difficulties and snags of ego and jealousy that plague us, we are attempting our own evolution. We are stepping, both feet, into the pool I described yesterday. And, we hope with all that we are that we are not slipping into an abyss from whence there is no return.

Today, we believe we understand each other more completely than we ever have. Today, I feel as though I hide nothing from my truest love. I finally feel as though all that lies within me can bubble to the surface as I wish. All of the love, sex and passion that crawls beneath my skin can give life to us, rather than eat at the core of my soul as it feels most days.


This week, I met Paul for lunch with J’s blessing. J had information about a gig for Paul–gold to a musician such as he. Purely business, I told a friend. I delivered the message over coffee at a small cafe in between our towns.

3 Responses to “Flutes and Bunnies, Part I”

  1. tom paine Says:

    Admitting the truth to ourselves is often harder than admitting it to the one we love. But they already know, already grieve inwardly (or outwardly in torrents of passionate anger and humiliation). That we cannot change the course of our actions, cannot “unring the bell” (to use one of C.’s most-telling expressions) only makes the “betrayal” that much harder. No amount of “I’m sorrys” or flowers will “fix” the hurt. Denial only deepens the betrayal’s sting, even if it is self-deception, the easiest and most-destructive deception of all, since, like the lawyer’s “fruit of the poisonous tree,” it destroys everything connected to it.
    Paul is a lucky man. Hold J’s hand when you jump in this deep end. And be careful not to jump in too many times lest you fray that connection.

  2. Lola David Says:

    Telling perspective, Tom. J and I will only indulge in what we hope is a pleasure for all of us as many time as it is healthy to do so.

    My hope for such health was encouraged last night. All was not as awkward as I thought it might be at the party where Paul was playing…

  3. dykbxr cypl Says:

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